


Humans

by jakia



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:15:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakia/pseuds/jakia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1885. By the end of the month, Kurt Hummel will never again be older than 19, and he'll spend the rest of eternity at Adam's side. Only, eternity doesn't last long, thanks to a pair of meddling detectives investigating a series of unusual murders that lead them down a supernatural path. [Victorian Vampire AU. Kadam, one-sided Blaine/Sam, one-sided Blaine/Tina, eventual (though not for a while) Klaine.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humans

**Author's Note:**

> Slight Sherlock Holmes crossover, if Sherlock Holmes were in New York instead of London. So like, Victorian!Elementary AU, yes good.
> 
> Typical vampire fic warnings apply, including but not limited to: blood, violence, character death, and maybe sex

Blaine tries to remember how to breathe.

 

The—not a boy, not even a _human_ —looks at him strangely, turning his head slightly. “You humans are so particular. I can hear your heart beating so fast, even from across the room.” He smiles at him thinly, as if he had just told a particularly funny joke. “Is my appearance really that frightful, little boy?”

 

Blaine swallows, and steps back.

 

From the shadows, the— _monster’s_ —blonde friend walks out, taps him on the shoulder like a scolded child. “Don’t play with your food.”

 

“You never let me have any fun.”

 

The blonde smiles, running his hand down the back of the other one’s suit. “That’s not true. Last week there was that handsome but rather dumb blonde with the lips—“

 

“ _Sam.”_ Blaine cries suddenly, drawing their attention back to him. “You killed _Sam.”_

 

“That’s what this is about, then?” The blonde monster laughs. “You came here because what? Your boyfriend went missing so you decided to investigate?”

 

Blaine wipes his eyes. “He was _my_ friend, and you killed him.” Because as much as Blaine might’ve loved Sam, he always knew Sam could never love him back.

 

And now Sam was dead. Because of _them._

 

“You stupid boy.” The blonde one says, stepping closer to Blaine. He runs his hand across Blaine’s face, and he’s so _cold._ “You pretty, stupid, brave little boy. I’m going to have fun with you.”

 

Then Blaine doesn’t think at all. He grabs the nearest thing to him—a piece of a broken wooden shelf he tripped and stumbled over getting into here, all sharp and jaded edges—and shoves it straight through the monster’s heart.

 

The creature looks down, and Blaine notices the blood leaking out of him.

 

“Adam?” The other one asks, hesitantly.

 

Then the—Adam—turns to _ash_ , scattered on top of Blaine. His partner screams in horror, and Blaine—

 

Blaine _runs._

 

* * *

 

 

 

_New York, 1885_

 

Kurt Hummel loves New York like he loves _breathing._ He’s nineteen years old and poor as dirt, but God, he loves it. He works three jobs—one to pay the rent, one to pay his father’s medical bills, and one he wants to make a career out of, but he wouldn’t trade it for the world. He was a chauffeur part of the time, a servant the other part of the time, and a writer some days, an editor on others, a designer only when Mrs. Wright could convince her husband that he could do more than just fetch them coffee. It made him wish Mrs. Wright were in charge of the magazine instead of her awful husband, because then he could just work for her instead of working three jobs.

 

He didn’t mind too terribly much, though. Especially since he got to meet such interesting people on Mr. Wright’s behalf.

 

“Mr. Crawford will get here at five,” Mr. Wright told him as Kurt poured him his morning coffee. “The man’s as queer as they get, but we can’t really afford to be picky right now. Bring an umbrella just in case—he’s sensitive to the sun, strange fellow. Good ideas, though, and _lots_ of money, so we want him as happy as possible.”

 

“Yes sir.”

 

Mr. Wright looks at him funny for just a moment. “And Mr. Hummel?”

 

Kurt almost drops the coffee pot. “Yes sir?”

 

“Wear something pretty.”

 

Kurt flashes him his biggest grin. “Don’t I always?”

 

* * *

 

 

Mr. Crawford is—particular. He’s quite handsome, lovely in a way that makes Kurt’s heart beat inappropriately that he tries his best to ignore, but he’s strange, too. The strangest thing, thus far, is that he treats Kurt like a human being, and not just an invisible driver.

 

“Have you lived in New York long, Kurt?” Mr. Crawford calls him by his first name, with a handsome, devilish smile that makes it hard for Kurt to concentrate on the road in front of him.

 

Kurt swallows. “About a year, sir.”

 

Mr. Crawford laughs. “You don’t have to call me sir when it’s just you and me. Call me Adam.”

 

“That would be inappropriate, sir.”

 

Mr. Crawford smiles gently, his skin paler than anything Kurt has ever seen. “I won’t tell anyone.” He lays a gentle hand on Kurt’s shoulder, and Kurt blushes at the contact.

 

“Have you ever been to America before?” He asks instead, avoiding calling _sir_ or _Adam_ or anything, and trying instead to focus on making his heart stop beating so loudly in his chest.

 

“No,” Mr. Crawford admits, letting his hand slide off of Kurt’s shoulder. “But if all of the boys here are as pretty as you, I think I’ll like it here.”

 

It’s so brazen that it makes Kurt’s cheeks flush immediately. _No one_ has ever talked to Kurt like that, not even in New York, even though Kurt has—has _wanted_ people to, sometimes, but has never been brave enough.

 

“ _Sir.”_   He gasps, partially scandalized, and Mr. Crawford only laughs.

 

“I didn’t offend you, I hope?” He offers, with a cheeky grin that offers no such apologies. Kurt shakes his head.

 

“No, sir, I just—“ He draws in a deep breath as he parks the car in front of the Wright Manor. He turns and looks at Mr. Crawford, his eyes wide and—and hopeful. “Aren’t you ever frightened to—to say such things?”

 

Mr. Crawford—Adam—leans forward, until his nose brushes against Kurt’s. “My dear Kurt—I think you’ll find that there are _very_ few things in this world that frighten me.”

 

Then he smiles at him, his teeth sharp like knives, and Kurt falls in love.

 

* * *

 

 

Mr. Crawford shakes Mrs. Wright’s hand first. He doesn’t kiss her hand, but shakes it like he would a man. He doesn’t compliment her dress, but instead compliments the articles she has written for the magazine.

 

It makes Mr. Wright _stew_ inside, but he doesn’t say anything. He can’t afford to—Mr. Crawford has too much money to risk offending.

 

Kurt has to bite his tongue to keep from grinning.

 

Later, after supper has been cleared away, Kurt goes to Mr. Crawford’s room, to turn up the sheets and light up the fireplace so that it’s warm enough before bed.

 

He doesn’t expect Mr. Crawford to sneak up on him while he’s there.

 

“Well,” the Englishman laughs, causing Kurt to jump. He takes his pocket-watch off and sets it down on the dresser beside him. “I had hoped to get you into my bed sometime before I left the states—I just never expected to get you there without even having to ask.”

 

Kurt drops the pillow he’d been holding, and presses a hand to his heart. “That’s rather bold of you.”

 

Mr. Craw— _Adam—_ steps forward. “Am I _wrong?_ ”

 

Kurt—Kurt is so tired of wanting things he’s not allowed to have. And he wants Adam. He wants him so badly, wants to know what he tastes like, what his skin feels like pressed against his own. He is tired of being safe, and he is tired of pretending he is something he is not. He closes the distance between them, until he can feel Adam’s breath on his face. “You aren’t.”

 

Adam kisses him.

 

* * *

 

 

This is how the next few weeks go by for Kurt:

 

His evenings are spent with Adam, trading kisses and touches and soft skin, making up for a lifetime of _wanting_ but never being allowed to touch. His days are spent doing what he usually does, running errands on behalf of the Wright family, but with the added bonus of watching Adam. Adam—Adam is _amazing._ Kurt doesn’t understand him in the slightest, but he is continually complimenting and supporting Mrs. Wright while constantly insulting Mr. Wright, and Kurt just adores him. He doesn’t understand what game it is he’s playing, but for Adam it is most definitely a game, and it’s a game he seems to be winning.

 

About a month into his stay with the Wrights, though, things seem to be coming to a head. Mr. Wright’s temper grows more and more violent, and the peace cannot last.

 

“Beloved,” Adam whispers, pressing a gentle kiss against the naked skin of his back. “I need you to disappear, tomorrow night.”

 

Kurt frowns at him sleepily. “What do you mean?”

 

“I mean my game is coming to an end,” He rolls Kurt over, so that he’s lying on top of him. “Take Mrs. Wright and the children away from the house evening, after supper.”

 

“Take them _where?”_

 

“Anywhere. I’ll come find you, after it’s done.”

 

“After _what’s_ done?” Kurt demands.

 

Adam kisses his forehead. “I’ll tell you, afterwards. I just want you to be safe.”

 

“Safe from _what?_ Adam—“

 

“Hush, love. Go back to sleep. We’ll talk about it again, afterwards.”

 

* * *

 

 

The thing about Kurt is, he’s good at following orders—to a point. But when he worries, _well._

 

He does what Adam asks. After supper, he takes Mrs. Wright and her two children to the park, and he drops them off there. It does not take much to convince them to stay, and it also does not take much to convince her that he “forgot” something, and will be right back.

 

He forgot something alright. He forgot _Adam._

 

He drives back to the Manor as quickly as he can, and throws the door open with less decorum than he’s ever used before in his life. He rushes through the house, his heart pounding in his chest as he looks for Adam, Adam, _Adam_.

 

He finds him in the kitchen, cradling Mr. Wright’s dead body and— _slurping_ up his blood from the vein in his neck.

 

Kurt’s first immediate thought is _oh, thank God you’re alive._

 

Adam looks up, his usual blue eyes now violently red, blood dripping out of his mouth. “ _Kurt—“_ He says, slowly. He looks ashamed of himself, and frightened, and Kurt—

 

Kurt doesn’t care.

 

He throws himself into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. “You’re _alive._ ” He breathes, not caring about the blood that must be dripping onto his shirt, or the body lying beside him. “Thank God. I was so scared for you.”

 

Adam wraps his hands around his back, and holds him close. “You aren’t—frightened?”

 

Kurt breathes, and pulls back. He sees Adam’s eyes as they change from vivid red back to their usual calm blue. “I—of you?” He wipes his love’s face, smearing a bit of the blood off of his face. “A little.” He confesses, looking down at the body of his (former?) employee. “You killed Mr. Wright?”

 

Adam hesitates, and then nods. “I had to, Kurt.”

 

“By—eating him?”

 

Adam pulls out a handkerchief, and wipes off the rest of his face. “I’m not—I’m not exactly _human_ , Kurt. I was at one point, but that was a long time ago. And I’ve managed to stay alive for so long is because I drink the blood of other humans.” He looks up at Kurt uncertainly. “Do you hate me, for killing him?”

 

“For killing _him?_ ” Kurt looks baffled. “Never. He was awful to me, and he beat his wife. I’m glad he’s dead. I’m just glad you’re alright, even if—you aren’t what I thought you were.”

 

Adam squeezes his hand. “I _never_ lied to you. I just—didn’t tell you everything.” He lifts his hand, and brushes Kurt’s hair out of his face. “I’ll tell you everything now, though, if you want.”

 

Kurt smiles. “I’d like that.”

 

* * *

 

 

With the unexpected passing of Mr. Wright, the ownership of the magazine passes to his business partner, Mr. Crawford, who immediately makes Mrs. Isabelle Wright in charge of absolutely everything. Kurt stops working for the Wrights, not—he reassures Mrs. Wright—because he doesn’t love the family, but because Mr. Crawford has made him an offer he’d be a fool to refuse, a chance to be by his side from now until eternity.

 

By the end of that month, Kurt will never again be older than nineteen, and he will spend the rest of eternity at Adam’s side.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There's a second chapter already done that I'll post eventually, and ONE DAY I'll finish it and write the third chapter, but I hope you enjoy it so far!


End file.
